The Last Restaurant In Paris Novels & Stories

Part of me is afraid she’ll reveal what she said to me earlier, and I sure as hell don’t want that. Grant throws her a sideways look. “You’re welcome to stay here, but JP, Eve, and I think it’s best if we move to another location. That’s three to one.” “Oui – c’est democracy, n’est-ce pas?” JP quips. Dominique crosses her arms and just scowls. “I have une bonne idée,” JP says. “There is a place in Montmartre – Canard et Couteau? The restaurant of Marcel?” “Marcel still owns that joint?” Grant marvels. “Is he still running his fencing operation out of it?”

He had paid for the lift anyway. When we finally left the area, we ditched the rental car and decided to walk hand in hand instead. I didn’t know why I was so easily flustered these days but something as mundane as holding hands with George had me blushing. We talked about the most random things until we got hungry. We found a four-star restaurant that was relatively close to the tower, La Bulle Parisienne. Even the name seemed expensive. I could barely understand what was written on the menu and I left it to George to place the orders. I didn’t care to understand what the names of the dishes meant. I was just happy to eat delicious food. Maybe, I liked food more than I cared to admit.

He can see the reflection of the Tower’s lights in their depths, and the moment feels heavy with possibility. A car horn honks behind them, and he have to focus on the roadway once again, but he doesn't forget the look in her eyes. As they drive, Jackson tells her little facts about Paris, as though she was her tour guide. But he doesn't mind because she seems thrilled by everything about his city. They reach their destination, a favourite restaurant of his called Chez Madeleine. There are few places left in Paris that are both classically French without being either tourist traps or pretentious garbage dumps. And sadly, there are too many of both. But Chez Madeleine is neither. The exterior

Things were going along as planned. -------------------------------- Rush hour was a bit heavier than usual and Lia arrived at La Rue de Cuisson, a bit later than she expected. The restaurant was famous for its French cuisine and reservations are hard to come by but her grandmother had always loved dining in this restaurant whenever she came to the city. She had just given the valet parking attendant the keys to her car when she heard someone calling her. She turned around to see Marissa waving at her. But what caught her eye was not her beautiful best friend, but the tall, gorgeous man in a suit standing beside her. No wonder women pay a lot at host clubs!

"Then what is she?" Good question. One I didn't have an answer to. Not yet, anyway. "Someone I need to see again," I said finally. Marcus was quiet for a moment. Then his tablet pinged. "Viv's House Restaurant. Upscale French cuisine. Located in Manhattan, corner of Fifth and 42nd. Currently closed due to... ah." He scrolled. "Due to an incident last night involving a waitress and the owner's daughter." My jaw tightened. "What kind of incident?"

"Alright, since you promised, then go, but don't stay out too late, okay? Danger is where we least expect it!" "Yes, ma'am, I'll be back soon!" Clarice promised as she walked out of the hallway towards the door. The driver had already exited through the door and was waiting for her. Versailles Restaurant. The city's most sophisticated French restaurant, with a 3-Michelin-star plaque hanging on the door. When coming here to eat, you had to make a reservation in advance, or there would be no place, and Alice had been waiting for this grand meal for a long time. So, she asked someone to help and booked a table in advance.

Half of the walls were floor length mirrors. It was a little after eight that we had dinner. This was my last day in Paris. We were going to fly back home next morning. It was time to go back to daily routine. It was funny how my daily routine now consisted of living in a huge mansion with plenty of food and clothing and anything I wished to have at my beck and call.

Harper’s POV Tall windows framed the street outside, Paris slipping past in slow, elegant motion. White tablecloths fell in crisp lines, untouched by wrinkles. Polished silver caught the glow from low lamps set deliberately far apart, casting small pools of light instead of flooding the room. Michael had chosen a beautiful, elegant restaurant near the fashion show venue. I should’ve been floating. Celeste had just conquered Paris. We were here to celebrate. Michael was across from me, close enough that I could reach out and touch him, his knee brushing mine beneath the table like an unspoken reassurance.

She never asked for any of that Sensing an argument from Cass, "Mr. Wells asked us to prepare these in advance" Cass handed Mr, Wells's card to pay and grimaced at the cost, She almost felt guilty, it was triple her annual salary. Cass met with the driver and was taken to "Le Château Étoilé" one of the most exclusive restaurants in the country. As Cass walked in, she noticed that a particular section of the restaurant was closed off and could see Marcus's broad shoulders sitting at the only table there.

The drive back was a breeze. It went by so fast. He decided to take a shower in the meantime, to wash away the exhaustion of the day. He had just a few minutes left to dinner with his mom. Damian adjusted his cufflinks for the third time that evening, even though they didn’t need adjusting. He had gotten a message from his mother with the restaurant’s name earlier...Gout de la Maison, one of those places that only took reservations if your last name carried a certain weight or your pockets was very deep. It was the kind of restaurant where the waiters wore a three-piece suit and spoke with a foreign accent, where the light seemed engineered to flatter expensive jewelry.